


Words that burn.

by Michaelssw0rd



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: (okay apparently that is a tag), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bottom Arthur, Dirty Talk, Erotic Poetry, Fluff and Smut, M/M, The boys being ridiculous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-10-20 04:46:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10655208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Michaelssw0rd/pseuds/Michaelssw0rd
Summary: After being goaded into reading aloud one of his poems he has written for Arthur, Merlin isn't sure how Arthur would react. He certainly is not expecting to end up in a dark corridor with a hand grasping his hair and a mouth moving against his own, desperately.Apparently, Arthur likes his poetry. A lot.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dr_Horse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dr_Horse/gifts).



> Because she kept commenting on my fics with "Merlin you should find a dark corridor and teach Arthur some poetry". She is to blame for this. Completely.
> 
> Written for [Bottom-Arthur fest](http://bottom-arthur.tumblr.com/), which gave me the much needed push to like... post smut. 
> 
> *hides away*

“I quite like flowers,” Freya said shyly, at which most of the people chuckled, and Gwen patted her on her arm.

“Flowers are nice,” Gwen agreed, ever supportive. “Personally, I would like a thoughtful date, a home cooked meal. Simple, but considerate.”

Merlin smiled at that. He wasn’t the only one. Lance bent towards Gwen and kissed her forehead, making her sigh in contentment. This, he knew, probably happened often. Lance was a great cook.

He couldn’t remember how the topic of conversation turned towards romance and the best way to woo your lover, but he wasn’t surprised. Whenever all of them sat together, there was no limit to the directions the conversation would take. It could be anything, from world politics, to mating habits of insects. Merlin still considered himself scarred by that particular discussion.

“Gwaine, what about you?” Leon asked.

“Oh I am a man of simple tastes. If you want me, the best way to get me is by telling me. And possibly by buying condoms and lube beforehand.” Gwaine wriggled his eyebrows at Percival. And because he was the worst partner in existence, he timed it perfectly with Percy taking a sip of his drink. He ended up coughing and choking, and giving Gwaine a dirty look. It was too full of fondness to be an effective deterrent.

“I think Morgana would agree with your thoughts on that,” Leon laughed. Morgana, who was currently sitting in his arms, pinched him harshly. It only made him laugh harder.

“What about you Arthur?”

“Me?” Arthur startled from where he had been sitting lazily in his chair, sipping his wine and staring at Merlin, “Well, I quite like Merlin.”

Everyone laughed. Gwen cooed, and Gwaine pretended to gag. Morgana sat up straighter and pried, “Romance Arthur. How do you prefer Merlin romancing you?”

Why Arthur’s sister was so interested in their love life, Merlin would never understand. Merlin found himself blushing, but there was a self-satisfied smirk playing at the corner of Arthur’s lips. He placed a hand on Merlin’s thigh and squeezed reassuringly. “Well, I really am quite fond of the way he calls me clotpole, or dollophead. My favorite is when he wears these bespoke tight fitted suits and a bowtie and calls me a prat.”

Merlin regarded his boyfriend adoringly and said, “You enjoy being insulted? I should’ve guessed.” And then added a “Prat” at the end, which made Arthur grin and everyone else groan.

“Too much information,” Morgana complained.

“Well you did ask.” Arthur sipped his drink again, satisfied at grossing his sister out. Their relationship was a complicated one.

“Get a room.” Percival quipped.

“We already have one. Right upstairs. Which we plan to make good use of once we are finished here.”

They were attending a party thrown by Lord Bayard of Mercia, for his son’s graduation. All of them were staying at the Villa for the weekend as Bayard’s special guests. The night’s festivities and food were just about finished, many of the guests already leaving for their beds, conversations becoming quieter. Arthur and the rest of the group were also becoming more languid by the minute and Merlin suspected someone would call it a night very soon. Tomorrow was their last day here and they planned to go to the beach.

Their friends had apparently decided Arthur was a smug bastard- which he was- and turned towards Merlin.

“Merlin,” Gwaine exclaimed and Merlin flinched. That tone did not signal anything good.

“What?”

“How do I woo you?” he placed a hand on his heart, widening his eyes.

“You don’t. I am taken. And need I remind you that so are you!” Merlin looked pointedly at Percival, who grinned.

“Don’t worry Merlin. I will remind him of that.” He gave the compulsive flirt a doting look. “But I am curious as well. While we cannot even begin to imagine what Arthur might have done to win you,” Arthur poked his tongue out at that, very maturely, “I think I speak for us all when I ask… what according to you is a romantic gesture?”

Merlin thought about it for a moment. But in the end, it really wasn’t even a question. He knew what he liked.

“Poetry,” he answered.

They all looked at him, as if waiting for a punch line. Merlin nonchalantly cut a piece of cake with his fork and placed it in his mouth, gazing back at the others innocently.

“You’re serious?” Gwaine half laughed, unsure.

“Yes.”

“Really? Poetry Merlin?” Leon also chuckled disbelievingly.

“Why not?” Merlin argued. “There’s a reason why people of every generation read and write poetry. It’s beautiful, and it’s effective.”

Gwen tried to be the voice of reason, “Poetry really is romantic. Please don’t tease him too much.” Lance nodded in response.

“ _O my Luve’s like a red, red rose,_ _That’s newly sprung in June; O my Luve’s like the melodie, That’s sweetly play’d in tune_. Seriously Merlin, that’s what you like?” Gwaine- the jerk- was openly laughing now.

“I do,” Merlin refused to be ashamed of his preference. He was grateful for Arthur when he removed the hand from his thigh and instead linked his fingers through his hand lying on the table. He didn’t need the support, but he was glad to have it. “Except, maybe not something like that.”

“Enlighten us then,” he teased.

Merlin thought about it. There were any number of poems he could go with, but in the end, he choose this,

“ _Teach me to sin—_  
_Enslave me to your wanton charms,_  
_Crush me in your velvet arms_  
_And make me, make me love you._  
_Make me fire your blood with new desire,_  
_And make me kiss you—lip and limb,_  
_Till sense reel and pulses swim._  
_Aye! even if you hate me,_  
_Teach me to sin_.”

Gwaine’s mocking smile withered when Merlin started speaking, enjoying the way words rolled off his tongue, narrating the verses with feeling. When he finished, there was a hushed quiet.

Then lightly, Arthur laughed.

“Never make a literature major argue about poetry. You can never hope to win.”

Everyone chuckled at that. Merlin squeezed back Arthur’s hand, grateful for the lightening of mood. Gwen smiled brightly.

Her next question, although coming from a good place, jarred Merlin a bit. “So Merlin, have you ever written Arthur any poetry?”

He froze, his fork midway to his mouth. All the group looked at him expectedly.

“Umm.” He looked at Arthur, who seemed just as curious as the rest. Admitting that he thought poetry was romantic, and then denying having ever written any for his boyfriend would look bad. But he had never even shared them with Arthur, so he hesitated.

“Oh he has! He must’ve! Can’t you see his face?” Morgause cackled, “Merlin. You sly dog. Come on, share with all of us.”

“I- I don’t…” Merlin looked at Arthur for help, desperate. He seemed to understand.

“Okay that’s enough. Stop bothering my boyfriend. I don’t want to be dumped because I have terrible friends.”

“Don’t tell me you are shy,” Gwaine, predictably joined in. “Or are you ashamed of poetry now?”

Merlin sighed. If he didn’t share anything, this would escalate.

“Can I?” He looked at Arthur for permission. This was personal, but Arthur didn’t know that.

Arthur looked confused for a second, not understanding what Merlin was asking, but he nodded anyway, murmuring, “go ahead.”

Merlin swallowed. He felt nervous. When he had imagined finally showing Arthur the poetry he wrote for him, he had an entirely different scenario in mind. Funny how these things go. He thought hard about which one to share, finally deciding on a relatively tamer one.

He cleared his throat, and ignored the far too interested and curious expressions of the group, looking directly at Arthur’s face; focusing on it; letting that ground him.

“ _There’s a map hidden,_  
_In the freckles strewn across your skin,_  
_And I ache to trace them,_  
_With my fingers,_  
_My lips,_  
_Over and over, in innumerable combinations,_  
_Until I unravel the path,_  
_That leads me home_.”

He spoke low and sure, hesitating before he said ‘ _my lips’_ , aware of all the eyes around them, but continued onwards. Arthur’s breath hitched halfway, his pupils dilated. Slowly, he put his glass down, his gaze still locked with Merlin’s. Merlin could not place the expressions on his face; he didn’t look upset, but neither did he look pleased.

Before he could worry too much about it, worry about whether he had gone too far, Leon cleared his throat.

“That was… intense,” Leon said, and everyone murmured in agreement.

He turned around to look at his friends, Gwaine barely hiding his leer, slapping Arthur on his shoulder from the other side of the table and saying, “You lucky bastard. You have him all to yourself.”

Gwen bent forward and squeezed his hand, “Oh that was beautiful Merlin.” Lance looked at her lovingly before nodding at Merlin and agreeing, “It was.”

Morgana had a shit eating grin on her face, but he didn’t say anything. Just gave them both meaningful looks. Merlin felt awfully embarrassed, his face heating him, as he rubbed his neck. Arthur tried to smile, but it didn’t take a genius to see how fake it was. Merlin’s heart clenched. He had messed up. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Dammit.

The topic of conversation changed soon, for which Merlin was grateful. A few minutes later, Arthur excused himself, saying he needed to use the restroom and then sleep. As everyone was getting ready to retire for the night anyway, nobody questioned it. But Merlin noticed Arthur turning the corner, and it wasn’t towards the stairs leading to the rooms upstairs. Quickly, he stood up too, making up a hasty explanation, and followed him. He needed to talk to Arthur, needed to figure out what was wrong.

The turn led him towards a dark hallway, the windows letting in cool breeze. He stepped into the corridor and started walking, thinking it probably led to the gardens. Why Arthur would want to go to the gardens at this time of the night was beyond him. Maybe he needed fresh air. He looked around, trying to catch a glimpse of his boyfriend, but the moonlight filtering in through the windows wasn’t enough to see too far.

He almost shrieked when someone grabbed him, pulling him towards a corner. He would’ve started screaming but a hand tangled in his hair, gripping them firmly, as a mouth crashed with his. It took a few moments for the panic to fade, for the familiarity of the lips pressed to his own to register. Then he melted into the touch, letting Arthur kiss him, frantically.

Kissing was good. Kissing was better than fighting.

He let his body relax, grateful for the wall at his back, and gave into the passion of Arthur. Arthur kissed him like he was desperate for it, like he would die if he stopped, biting his lips and licking into his mouth, his hand fisted in his hair, pulling roughly and Merlin let himself drown in sensation.

When Arthur pulled back for air, panting against Merlin’s collar bone, Merlin rubbed his back and tried to gentle him. His own breathing was erratic, his heart beating wildly by the unexpected assault on his senses.

“What?” he asked, because while he wasn’t complaining, he needed to know what brought it about.

“Oh God.” Arthur groaned, biting the skin under his teeth. “Can you say it again?”

“Again?” Merlin tried to make his brain function, but he was drawing a blank. “Say what again?”

Arthur just shook his head, hiding his face, but Merlin pushed him, until he could see the flushed face of his lover. He already looked wrecked. “Arthur?”

“The poem. Can you narrate it again?” Arthur looked down when he spoke, his cheeks reddening.

_Oh._

Oh, so _that_ was what the look had been all about.

“You…” Merlin opened and closed his mouth, processing the statement. A smirk started forming on his lips, slowly. “You _liked_ it.”

Arthur nodded, trying to push back into Merlin’s space, trying to hide again. Merlin was having none of that.

“That’s not all. You don’t just like it. You’re _hot for it_.”

Arthur moaned, meeting his eyes. There was vulnerability in them, mixed with need, and Merlin felt dizzy with the power of it. He pushed away from the wall, reversing their positions so that Arthur was pressed against it. “I didn’t know you were such a sucker for poetry Arthur. I would’ve shared it sooner if I knew.”

“When you spoke of all those things…” Arthur broke off, licking his lips, “in front of all our friends. I couldn’t... I had to have you.”

Merlin grinned. This was fantastic. “You got all hot and bothered just because of a few words? In front of everyone?”

“Yes.” Arthur accepted, too far gone to put up any token of resistance. Merlin rocked into him, just to be sure, and found Arthur hard and wanting against his thigh. They both moaned at the rough contact. “Please,” Arthur begged.

“Please what?” Merlin asked, pushing his knee between Arthur’s open legs, pinning him there. Arthur pressed back, seeking more.

“Please. Please Merlin.”

“You want me to whisper poetry to you as we fuck. Is that it?”

“Yes.”

“You want me to tell about all the dirty thoughts that I’ve had, that I’ve scribbled on a page, secretly, as I rut against you?”

“Yes. All of that. Merlin,” he whispered his name reverently and Merlin felt like he was flying.

“You want me to murmur all my filthy fantasies, disguised as verses, against your skin. Is that it? Are you that desperate for _poetry_?”

“God. Merlin your mouth. I didn’t even know you could speak like that.” Arthur grabbed his hair and slotted their lips together again, kissing him with fervor.

Merlin didn’t move too far after the kiss ended, breathing in the same air, his lips barely a few centimeters away from Arthur’s. He was having far too much fun with this, his arousal wreaking having on his senses.

“ _I am starving,  
For the taste of your pleasure,_ ”

He started speaking, his lips brushing with Arthur’s as they moved. Arthur let out a whimper at that, and Merlin moved forward, pressing his knee up, light headed with how good the clothed contact felt.

 _“As you press your mouth to mine,_  
_and let me gorge myself,_  
_On your moans_ ,”

“Jesus,” Arthur moaned as if on cue, and Merlin swallowed it down hungrily, kissing and kissing, and then finished with,

“ _On you._ ”

“Oh God. Your voice, your…” Arthur was panting, rocking back and forth, seeking more friction, more of Merlin’s lips on his, more of _Merlin._ “More. Please, is there more?”

“Greedy,” Merlin chastised, but he couldn’t blame him. He was mindless with pleasure too, wanting to tear Arthur’s clothes off of him, to reach the hot skin underneath, but a part of his brain remembered that wasn’t a good idea. He didn’t have the patience to wait till they went back to their rooms though. “So desperate, such a mess, just because of a few words of poetry. If people knew what an easy lay you are, how very akin to a Victorian lady, swooning at a few verses, what would they think?”

Merlin cupped him through his clothes and he whined, not caring at all about his dignity at the moment. Merlin wanted to laugh, but he wasn’t sure if it wouldn’t come out as a desperate sob instead. So he let go… choosing to move up and brush his thumb against Arthur’s nipple instead. The resulting whimper did not help clear the fog in his head. It did exactly the opposite.

“Can you please… Please give me more?” Arthur was being polite, cockiness forgotten. Merlin wanted to tease him, ask him to clarify, but he decided to take mercy- both on Arthur, and himself.

He nosed Arthur’s throat, who obediently tilted his head to give Merlin access,

“ _I used to wonder,_  
_Why does the collision of two galaxies,_  
_Have to be so violent?_ ”

His breath ghosted over Arthur’s sensitive skin, and Arthur shivered in response. Arthur’s hands came to rest on his hips, pulling him closer, making him rut. He was too into it to resist anymore, to take back control.

“ _And then,_  
_You crashed into me,_  
_Breaking me apart and making me whole_ ,”

He licked a stripe up the side at that, and Arthur’s body trembled, his fingers digging into Merlin’s flesh. He was going to be bruised later. Good.

“ _And I realized,_  
_There is an exquisite pleasure,_  
_In that utter demolition too,”_

A kiss, open mouthed, followed by just a hint of teeth and Arthur was a whimpering mess now, rutting into him like a man possessed. Merlin couldn’t focus on anything but the pleasure coursing through his veins, wanting to reach the end of his poem, wanting to make Arthur feel.

_“And I will burn myself over and over and over again,”_

He kissed the wet skin every time he said over, and synced it with a deliberate push of his hips. The noises Arthur made were positively sinful.

“ _Just to experience,_  
_The sheer pleasure of that fire,_  
_One more time._ ”

Merlin sank his teeth into the junction of Arthur’s neck and shoulder, biting hard. Arthur shuddered at that, his back tensing and his body stiffening. Merlin pulled back to watch as Arthur’s mouth opened on a soundless scream, his face twisted in pleasure, clutching at Merlin for dear life. After a few moments he sagged back against the wall with his eyes closed. He looked debauched.

Merlin stared.

That… was new.

Merlin was so startled that he forgot about his own need at the moment. He just watched as Arthur came down from his high, and opened his eyes shyly. His lips were red and tender looking, his hair a mess, and there was a flush high on his cheeks that wasn’t all from pleasure. He was embarrassed.

“Arthur?” Merlin asked, awed.

“What?” Arthur looked defensive, but he wasn’t meeting his eyes.

“Did you just… come?” Merlin whispered, reverent.

“Shut up.” Arthur tried to turn away, hide, but Merlin had him pinned. “It’s all your fault.”

“I had no idea…” If he had known, he would’ve done this months ago.

“Well now you do.” Arthur finally met his eyes shyly. There was a well of love in them that made Merlin’s mouth go dry.

“Now I do.”

Arthur tried to push him away then, to fix himself, but in the process he managed to brush against Merlin’s still throbbing erection. Merlin could not stifle his moan.

“Sorry,” Arthur apologized.

Merlin disentangled himself from Arthur gingerly. The haze of lust was fading but his body still needed relief. He pouted a little, “As delightful as that was… I didn’t get to have my fun,” Merlin complained.

Arthur considered this, and then looked at Merlin thoughtfully, a fresh blush blooming on his face. Merlin could get used to this. Shy Arthur was so much better than cocky Arthur. “Do you have any more of the…. Poetry?” he whispered the last word bashfully, and Merlin felt his chest burst with affection.

“Yes,” he admitted. There was no point in lying about this. He wasn’t ashamed of the dozens and dozens of poems he had written for the beautiful man.

“Then I don’t think it would be a problem,” he confessed, looking anywhere but at Merlin.

Merlin threw his head back and laughed in delight. He had never imagined showing Arthur his corny poetry would result in anything like this, but it was an unexpectedly brilliant outcome all around, and he planned to take full advantage of it.

If this was the reaction his words had, it would not be long until he ended up having written a whole book of erotic poetry dedicated to Arthur.

* * *

Arthur lay in bed, in all his naked glory, his flesh soft and supple under Merlin’s hands, burning hot, as he caressed it leisurely, taking his time. Every now and then he would let his nails come into play, dragging them across Arthur’s torso and watching him writhe with need. Merlin was straddling Arthur, undulating slowly, his arousal a slow enjoyable burn. He could not tear his eyes away from the beautiful man under him, and the way he responded to everything Merlin did.

When Arthur bit his own lip to stifle a gasp, Merlin found himself helplessly drawn. Bending, he kissed Arthur’s mouth, biting that lush bottom lip greedily. He didn’t sit back up after that, peppering kisses all over the inviting skin, vowing to make Arthur voice all the noises he could make.

“ _Slowly,_  
_With a meticulous precision,_  
_You paint_.”

His voice was hoarse, as he whispered his devotion into Arthur’s skin, relishing the way his words undid Arthur the moment they left his mouth.

“ _With strokes long and smooth,_  
_Unrushed,_  
_Finding the crevices and lingering_.”

He pulled back and watched, emotions coloring his tone, making it deeper. He trailed his fingers on Arthur’s hipbone, following it into the dip of his groin, down to where he had opened him up with care and patience a while back. Arthur tried to push into his touch, writhing, but Merlin just chuckled evilly and withdrew. Not yet.

“ _Then sweeping across the sensitive skin,  
in feather light caresses_ ,”

And he did exactly that. Caressed him lightly, barely there, running a single finger up his twitching, straining erection, pulling away, then brushing his nipples lightly and having him toss his head from side to side, trying to push into Merlin’s touch, trying to find some relief. When he looked at Merlin, his eyes glistening with unshed tears, and mouthed a “Please,” Merlin’s restraint snapped. Arranging his limbs, he positioned himself and carefully pushed inside Arthur, overwhelmed by sensation.

“ _Until there remains only a mess,  
Of heaving breaths and quivering flesh_.”

He pressed his forehead to Arthur’s chest, trying to reign in his passion, and gather a little control again, choking out the words. Arthur’s fingers ended up in his hair, caressing lightly, calming. Soon enough though, they became an insistent tug, a wordless demand for more.

Merlin complied.

It was a gentle yet thorough undoing. His words breaking down any barriers Arthur might have had, leaving him defenseless against the onslaught of sensation. His flitting touch, his deep and deliberate thrusts, made him helpless to do anything but take. Take what Merlin was giving him and enjoy it.

When he was close, Merlin kissed Arthur. It was more of panting against each other’s lips than any real kissing, but it was enough. He wrapped his fingers around Arthur’s erection, giving him something to push into, and then, unfairly, added to the assault by breathing the last verses of the poem right next to Arthur’s ear.

“ _The artist in you,_  
_Chose my body as it’s canvas,_  
_And every day now,_  
_I am remade._ ”

Arthur came with a cry this time, which Merlin swallowed greedily, hungry for it. His own orgasm came as an afterthought, his senses too focused on Arthur’s pleasure. He kept rocking into him for a few more seconds, chasing the high, not willing to let go yet. Arthur met his gaze, his eyes glazed, looking like he had been split open. Shattered.

He sighed, stopping and pressing his forehead against Arthur’s, overcome with the emotions the man evoked in him. When his breath was finally coming out steady, his jackhammering pulse slowed down, he found himself smiling.

Arthur chuckled lightly, and Merlin responded in the same way. Then, quite foolishly, he started giggling.

Arthur’s hands came to wrap around him, hugging him tightly, as he dissolved into elated laughter as well, rejoicing in the sheer absurdity of what had just happened. The angle strained Merlin’s back too much, so he pulled out, wincing and making a mental note to clean up soon, but too exhausted to be bothered just yet. Instead, he lay down on his side next to Arthur, still chuckling occasionally. Arthur turned towards him, affection written clearly on his face, a smile tugging on his lips.

His chest bursting with love, Merlin reached out and brushed the blond hair away from Arthur’s forehead, where they were sweat soaked and plastered. His finger’s lingered on Arthur’s cheekbones, his thumb stroking back and forth.

“So that happened,” Merlin teased.

“Yeah.” Arthur laughed lightly. “It was fun.”

“I didn’t know you would enjoy poetry so much,” Merlin mused.

“Neither did I. I never have before.”

“Oh?”

“I think it’s the fact that you wrote them. For me. Thinking of me that I…I just-” Arthur hid his face in the pillow, making Merlin laugh and ruffle his hair.

“Do you think anything I write would work?” Merlin was curious now, “What about… _Roses are red, Violets are blue, I am in love with a Prat, who just happens to be you._ ”

Arthur groaned into the pillow, his neck flushing.

Really?

“Oh.” Merlin caressed down his spine.

“Shut up.” Came a muffled reply, a silent request to not push it.

“I wonder… Can you- I mean… would it be possible… with just the words?”

Arthur turned his head a bit, only one eye and half of his face visible to Arthur, and raised his eyebrows. “You’re asking if I can come by just your poetry?”

It was Merlin’s turn to blush. When put like that it really did sound ridiculous. But still, that’s what he had asked. “Yeah,” he admitted.

Arthur buried his face in the pillow again, with a resigned sigh. “Maybe,” he said in a low voice, barely audible, “there’s not enough data to disprove it.”

Merlin shuffled until he was lying comfortably on his back, grinning at the ceiling. Now there was a concept to think about.

“Maybe next time,” he promised.

Arthur picked up a pillow and threw it at his face in response.

* * *

“So… how did it go?”

They were at the beach. Arthur, Leon and Percival were having a ridiculous water fight, and Lance was helping Gwen make a sand castle. Merlin was lying on a mat, reclined on his back. He had decided to take this opportunity to tan himself a bit- he was far too pale- and was soon joined by Morgana.

She lay down next to him, and watched him curiously, looking far too sly to mean anything innocent.

“What?” Merlin asked, cautiously.

“Whatever it was that you rushed to do last night. You mentioned that you had an important matter to attend to.”

“Oh.” Merlin blushed, remembering what had happened not ten minutes after he had left the dinner table.

Morgana smirked. Merlin could bet she knew somehow.

“Never mind,” she said magnanimously. Merlin sagged in relief. A few minutes later, Arthur came jogging towards him, water dripping from his skin. He picked a towel, slinging it around his neck, and then bent to kiss Merlin chastely, his skin tasting of salt.

Merlin was still smiling dopily when Morgana cleared her throat. He looked at her with something akin to dread.

“That’s an impressive hickey he is supporting,” she teased, “So can I assume Arthur was the important thing you had to _do_ last night?”

She was a witch. Merlin was sure of it. An evil sorceress.

“Uhhh.”

“In the wrong corridor too. I wonder what it was that you were doing.”

Oh what the hell. “I was teaching him some poetry,” he blurted out.

Morgana threw her head back and laughed until tears shined in her eyes. “I dearly hope my brother appreciated that.” She said in between her chuckles.

Merlin thought about it a little, smiling despite the embarrassment. Arthur looked towards him from a distance questioningly, but he waved his hand, telling him to continue on with his shenanigans. Merlin looked at Morgana then, and answered cheekily,

“Can’t get enough of it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Verses by Gwaine from _A red, red rose by Robert Burns_  
>  The first poem that Merlin narrates is part of _Enthralled by Alfred Bryan._  
>  Everything else is my own creation. I am posting them in chapter 2 separately, in case anyone is interested.


	2. The poetry found in Words that Burn.

1.

There’s a map hidden,  
In the freckles strewn across your skin,  
And I ache to trace them,  
With my fingers,  
My lips,  
Over and over, in innumerable combinations,  
Until I unravel the path,  
That leads me home.

 

2.

I am starving,  
For the taste of your pleasure,  
As you press your mouth to mine,  
and let me gorge myself,  
On your moans,  
On you.

 

3.

I used to wonder,  
Why does the collision of two galaxies,  
Have to be so violent?  
And then,  
You crashed into me,  
Breaking me apart and making me whole,  
And I realized,  
There is an exquisite pleasure,  
In that utter demolition too,  
And I will burn myself over and over again,  
Just to experience,  
The sheer pleasure of that fire,  
One more time.

 

4.

Slowly,  
With a meticulous precision,  
You paint.  
With strokes long and smooth,  
Unrushed,  
Finding the crevices and lingering.  
Then sweeping across the sensitive skin,  
in feather light caresses,  
Until there remains only a mess,  
Of heaving breaths and quivering flesh.

The artist in you,  
Chose my body as it’s canvas,  
And every day now,  
I am remade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's the first time I am writing smut for Merthur. Please let me know what you think. :D


End file.
